Blood and Moonlight
by Azzandra
Summary: "Sometimes, in Gilneas, when the curse still ran rampant, bodies would be found that looked just like this; the unlucky ones who couldn't get away with just a bite."
1. Chapter 1

Gwen Armstead had said, "I'm afraid that no answer at all would be worse than a bad one."

"Then you truly believe a Worgen is responsible for this heinous murder?" Evelyn Swift asked then, reviled by the notion.

"My dear," Gwen replied with a sad smile, "it's not a matter of belief, hey? It's a matter of immutable fact."

Evelyn begrudgingly accepted this explanation.

* * *

The body was discovered late morning, when the shifting winds brought the scent of blood. The worgen were the only ones to smell it, but it was unmistakeable. The scent called to deep instincts that many of them still did not master completely.

The mutilated body of the night elf was found behind a tree, in the small wooded area behind the Craftsmen's Terrace and the Howling Oak. His throat had been, in effect, ripped out, and with great savagery at that. Gilnean investigators threw each other uneasy looks.

Sometimes, in Gilneas, when the curse still ran rampant, bodies would be found that looked just like this; the unlucky ones who couldn't get away with just a bite (or maybe, some thought at the time, the lucky ones who didn't have to turn into monsters).

* * *

Evelyn threw a glance at the Sentinel. The Sentinel looked at her with mild annoyance.

They made an odd sight, the two of them. Evelyn, an apparently human woman, walking sedately, and Alluma Cloudshear, riding on a great white cat, following her.

"Are we any closer to our destination?" the Sentinel asked pointedly.

"We're getting there," Evelyn replied, maintaining her stroll.

In truth, Evelyn could have probably gone faster, but she refused to run because it was unlady-like and she refused to ride with Alluma because animals tended to dislike her, especially since her... new situation.

But the Sentinel's frustration derived from more than Evelyn's antics, and that made the Gilnean woman wince internally.

"Ah, I think this is it," Evelyn said, pointing to a path that lead behind the inn.

Alluma sighed in relief.

In a small grassy area between two large trees, someone had set up a meeting place of sorts. A dozen mismatched chairs and a bench serviced the patrons of this ad-hoc establishment, while two barrels and a board acted at a bartender's counter. Thus, possibly the world's first outdoor tavern was born.

This "tavern" was the invention of an industrious Gilnean brewer who noticed a niche in the Darnassian market. The night elves had very few places reserved for debauchery. None, to be exact. Needless to say, Gilneans were the ones who frequented it, with some Night Elves making shy, sporadic incursions, usually out of youthful curiosity.

At this time of day, there were only five patrons, all worgen. Though Gilneans were never an indulgent sort, the ruination of their homeland combined with the curse that afflicted most of them had lead to an alarming rise in alcoholism.

Evelyn could intellectually understand this tendency, but she still did not approve. Drinking in moderation was one thing, but in daylight? These things were meant for nighttime, in dark, windowless taverns, not out in the open like this.

"Which one is he?" Alluma asked, her distaste clear.

Evelyn felt embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"That's Charlie Gant," she pointed to the yellow-eyed worgen in leather armor nursing his drink in the shade, away from the other four and the bartender, the only Human present.

Alluma dismounted and walked towards him with purpose. Evelyn stood undecided for a moment before darting after the Night Elven woman.

"Charles Gant?" Alluma asked as she stopped in front of him.

Charlie Gant raised his snout.

Now that they were close, Evelyn could see the mastiff lying next to him, an incredibly ugly creature, even by the breed's standards. The animal was scarred on his chest and blind in one eye, but its teeth were in perfect condition and gleaming white and he growled low at the Sentinel.

"Who's that, then?" he asked in a slight slur.

Though it was barely noon, it was apparent that Charlie Gant was a very conscientious drunk who got up early and worked hard to stupefy his senses by the time the day was out.

"Aren't you Charles Gant?" Alluma asked, looking at Evelyn for confirmation. Evelyn nodded.

"Dunno, never heard of 'im," the Worgen shrugged.

Alluma frowned at Evelyn.

Evelyn sighed and kneeled down in front of Charlie.

"You know, this is serious business," she said. "If you don't cooperate, I will have to take drastic measures.

"Oh, yeah?" Charlie laughed. "Like what?"

* * *

Evelyn Swift was unassuming. She had the soft, unextraordinary features of a peasant girl, offset by dark shoulder-length hair. And, even since birth, the personality of a spinster. Not the bitter, hook-nosed kind of spinster who spied on neighbors and scared children, but the other type, the kind that popped in for visits when you least wanted her, or developed unnaturally strong affection for cats, or traded in bizarre goods that nobody knew they needed until she convinced them that, yes, this small gnome sculpture would look _adorable_ in your rose garden and these novelty dice with indecipherable runes were just the thing to gift to your uncle. In other words, the kind of woman who remained unmarried not because of a lack of suitors, but a lack of disposition.

"Oh," such a woman would say, "I'll get married eventually. When I find the right man." Or, "when I finish planting my garden." Or, "after I get the house repainted." Or, the vaguest answer of all, "when I feel I'm ready." And then, one day, her hair would be white or gray and she'd say, "Oh, well. My time is past. Marrying is a young woman's game, anyway." And she'd go on with her business, completely undaunted.

"But don't you want to start a family of your own?" people would ask.

"But I already _have_ a family," such a woman would reply, perhaps with puzzlement. "What do you call my parents, and my siblings, and my nieces and nephews?"

And that was what Evelyn would reply, usually, because she'd been terribly close to her brother's family, especially her three nieces.

But now they were dead.

And here she was, a bookish unmarried woman serving as a clerk for Miss Armstead, running errands and dealing with unpleasant individuals on the Sentinels' behalf.

* * *

"Very well," Evelyn replied in a low, dangerous voice that gave Charlie pause.

She turned to the other four drunkards, who looked away and tried to feign disinterest.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said, the last word tinged with a slight irony, "and madam," she added, noticing that one of the four was a woman. "I have a proposal for you."

"You gun' pay us t' beat 'im up?" one of the drunks asked a little too quickly.

Charlie snorted. Even drunk off his ass, he was still a trained hunter, capable of taking on four unarmed ruffians. Still, his hand moved from patting his dog to patting his rifle.

"Not exactly, though it is a tempting offer," Evelyn said. She got up to her feet and took out her pouch and counted her coin. "How about this: if Charlie here agrees to have a nice talk and cooperate with me and Miss Cloudshear here," she gestured towards Alluma, "the next two rounds are on me."

The four drunk worgen's ears perked with interest.

"An' if 'e won't?" the female worgen asked, sniffing warningly in Charlie's direction.

"Well, then I leave and you deal with him as you will," Evelyn shrugged.

Four pairs of eyes turned to Charlie. A tense few seconds passed, everyone absolutely still. Not a blade of grass moved in the grassy outdoors tavern.

"Alright, alright, if it'll keep the peace," Charlie grumbled, his slight slur gone, and placed his tankard on the ground, hoisting himself up with some difficulty.

Evelyn threw a few coins at the bartender. By the drunkards' reactions, she'd probably overpaid, but she had greater concerns now.

Charlie swayed a bit as he got himself upright, but followed Alluma and Evelyn to a more secluded corner between buildings, where prying ears couldn't overhear them.

"What can I do ya for?" he asked.

"We heard you were the man to talk to about a murder," Evelyn replied.


	2. Chapter 2

The murdered night elf's name had been Felaenus Creeksong. He had been a hunter in life, and his pet, a Moonstalker, had been found at the local stables.

Felaenus was known to have spent time around Darkshore and Ashenvale with Charlie Gant. In fact, they'd recently returned from helping out those two regions. Charlie had made a beeline for The Merry Glade-

"Is that seriously what people call that place?" Evelyn scoffed, gesturing towards the outdoors tavern.

"It's what it's called," Charlie replied unperturbed and continued his explanation.

-and Felaenus had disappeared into Darnassus, visiting family and running errands. Presumably, at least, because Charlie had not seen him for two days prior to his death.

"And where were you last night?" Alluma asked him.

"Where I am every night," Charlie shrugged.

"Getting drunk," Evelyn said, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"It's kept me out of trouble so far, no?" Charlie said. "If I weren't gettin' drunk out of my gourd last night with a dozen other like-minded folk, I'd be in trouble right now."

Evelyn shook her head, but did not comment further.

"Look, all I know is that Felaenus was runnin' some errands for Lady Walden," Charlie offered unprompted.

Evelyn's eyes widened.

"Lady Walden?" she repeated, amazed.

Alluma looked between the two, confused.

"Is this a person of import?" she asked.

"One could say so," Evelyn muttered.

She explained, in brief, about Lord Godfrey, who had refused to serve a worgen king, and his two lackeys, the Eastern lords, Baron Ashbury and Lord Walden. The three met their deaths unmourned, but while Lord Godfrey's two sons had perished in worgen attacks back during Gilneas' darker hours, and Baron Ashbury's family had retreated to Stormwind, only Lady Walden had joined the Gilneans at the Howling Oak, out of lack of options rather than anything else.

She was not a very popular individual. Gilneans were a stubborn lot and found it difficult to forgive and forget. The Civil War had left deep divides between the people, even after all this time. However, one thing both loyalists and dissidents could agree on was a shared hatred of the Eastern lords. The loyalists, simply because they dared stand against King Genn. The dissidents because of their loyalty to Lord Crowley and because a great number of them were worgen as well, and as such, disdainful of the three lords' bigotry.

It was unclear what role Lady Walden played in her husband's poor political decisions, if any. But the name she carried marked her as a traitor by association.

"And Felaenus ran errands for her?" Evelyn voiced her incredulity.

"A few tidbits," Charlie said. "Acquiring some items, finding the ruffians who painted graffiti on her wall... Those sort of things."

"Then it is best to interrogate her," Alluma said.

Evelyn and Charlie exchanged uneasy looks.

"Sentinel, might I offer some words?" Evelyn said.

"And what would those words be?"

"Have you ever dealt with human nobility before now?" Evelyn asked.

"No," Alluma replied bluntly.

"Then might I propose that Charlie and I go in your place?"

Charlie and Alluma both looked at her dumstruck.

"_Him?_"

"_Me?"_

"I suppose you have an adequate reason for requesting such a thing?" Alluma asked.

"I do. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but you do not know how to handle Gilneans."

Alluma opened her mouth to reply to this, but closed it again and considered.

"I give you that," she agreed. "But why him?" She threw Charlie a suspicious glance.

"Because he knew the deceased," Evelyn said. "And I feel obligated to keep him out of trouble."

"I am not a child," Charlie muttered. "I do not need to be 'kept out of trouble'."

"An admirable endeavor," Alluma said acidly, still looking at the worgen hunter with disapproval. "Very well. As a token of trust between our two people, I will allow you to conduct the interview with Lady Walden. If-" she raised a finger warningly, "-and only if—you report everything you learn to the Sentinels, or to me in particular."

"Agreed. Thank you most graciously," Evelyn agreed.

Alluma mounted and left.

"Come along then, you drunken oaf," Evelyn gestured.

* * *

Charlie threw sullen looks to Evelyn on the entire way to Lady Walden's home.

The treacherous little minx had lured him close to the lake, pointed as if there was something interesting on the bottom, and when he lowered his head, she'd pushed him by the back of his neck until he was submerged to his neck in water. She'd released him immediately and he'd sprung up, gasping for breath while his mastiff growled at Evelyn.

"What the bleedin' hell was that?" Charlie growled himself.

"It would not do to visit a noble lady's home smelling like a distillery," Evelyn had replied serenely and continued on her way, not even looking to see if he followed.

And follow he did, complaining bitterly that he would be treated in such a manner.

"What manner?" Evelyn had asked. "Like a slovenly drunk?"

Charlie had to stop himself from growling.

Sometimes the truth stung.

And before he'd become Worgen, he'd never overindulged in alcohol in such a manner, nor had he ever been tricked so easily.

"What do you suppose you'll find out from the Walden woman?" Charlie asked, trying to change the subject.

"I do not rightly know," Evelyn replied after a few moments. "What do _you_ know about her?"

"She's Lord Walden's wife."

"Yes, go on."

"That's all I know."

Evelyn sighed, but she truly could not have expected more from him. Lady Walden maintained a low profile.


	3. Chapter 3

Darnassian architecture did not suit the Gilneans, who were a private people. Not enough walls. (Though, considering the trouble building walls had gotten them into, one would think the Gilneans would be a bit more tolerant.)

Night elves seemed to think that the only thing necessary for something to qualify as a building was the roof. Now, granted, they had the kind of balmy weather that permitted for that. Rain was infrequent, often in the form of showers that started abruptly, lasted a few minutes and stopped just as suddenly.

Lady Walden had acquired a small home in a part of the Craftsmen's Terrace that was farthest away from the Howling Oak. The missing wall was replaced by a heavy blue velvet curtain. On the bench in front of the house, a dark gray worgen clad in old, dented armor sat, cradling a rifle over his shoulder.

As Evelyn and Charlie approached, he gave them a long look, his beady eyes dismissing Evelyn, pausing slightly over the mastiff at Charlie's side, and stopping to rest on the hunter.

"Well-wishers coming to visit Lady Walden?" the worgen rumbled.

"No," Evelyn replied tartly, "investigators coming to question her about a crime. And you would be...?"

The worgen grinned, exposing his long, jagged rows of teeth even further.

"Nathaniel Greer, Miss...?"

"Evelyn Swift. I am here on behalf of Miss Gwen Armstead and the Darnassus Sentinels." She gestured vaguely over her shoulder and added: "This is Charlie."

"Hrm," was the only thing Nathaniel Greer said to this.

A woman poked her head out between the curtains, a night elf with bright green hair.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice sounding young (though with night elves, it was always difficult to tell.)

"I am looking for Lady Beatrice Walden," Evelyn said.

"You said you were here on behalf of the Sentinels?" the girl said, stepping out completely.

"You heard right," Evelyn nodded.

The girl gave a look over her shoulder.

"Alright. Alright, I'll announce you."

She disappeared behind the curtain.

Evelyn exchanged puzzled looks with Charlie.

After an unexpectedly long stretch of time, the girl came out again and waved them in. Charlie did not follow, however.

"You go talk to her," he huffed. "I'm no good with blue bloods."

Evelyn inclined her head in acknowledgment, but did not comment. The room had no windows, being instead lit by two bright white lamps. There was another partition to the house, this one with a door that looked newly-installed, but the room she stepped in was sparsely decorated with only a divan, two chairs, a low table and a small rug. As she stepped past the curtain, she noticed faintly glowing runes carved into the floor, parallel to the entrance. Her gaze lingered on them only a moment, however, before she looked up and met her host.

Lady Walden might once have been a beautiful woman, but the sharp angles of her face indicated she lost a lot of weight recently. Her natural pallor, once a mark of beauty, now made her look sickly and emphasized the bags under her eyes. Her hair was coiffed perfectly, however, not a hair escaping her bun, and her dark green dress was embroidered with complicated images of interweaving rose vines; clearly an expensive garment, just on account of that complicated embroidery. Dark, narrow eyes peered at Evelyn inquisitively.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she started in a pompous tone, extending her hand as if expecting Evelyn to kiss it. "Lady Beatrice Walden."

Evelyn would have wanted to give some sardonic reply, such as "you don't say? Then this must mean I didn't stumble into someone else's house by accident!", but instead, she gave Lady Walden a firm handshake. The Lady was startled by this gesture, as it was something she'd probably only seen common men and women do, and she stared at her hand in puzzlement for a moment.

"Evelyn Swift. I'm Mayor—er, Miss Armstead's aide." Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek; she kept having to remind herself that Gwen Armstead was no longer a mayor in the traditional sense. "I am currently assisting the Sentinels of Darnassus on a certain matter."

"Ah—of course. Yashine said as much," Lady Walden said knowingly. "My servant, Yashine Longarrow," she clarified at Evelyn's confused look. "She was the one to show you in."

"Yes, a curious girl. You keep night elven servants?"

"Gilnean servants wouldn't have me," Lady Walden said with forced cheerfulness.

Evelyn made herself chuckle at the joke, poor though it was. There was nothing quite as pitiable as disgraced nobility.

"I noticed you studying the runes," Lady Walden changed the subject suddenly, gesturing to the floor.

"Oh, yes. I was just wondering about their function," Evelyn said.

"They merely block sound," Lady Walden explained. "For privacy; I cannot stand these elven houses."

"It's a common sentiment," Evelyn said neutrally.

"Well—this is the first thing I did when I moved in here," Lady Walden continued.

"You did the runes yourself?"

"A small dose of arcane talent runs in my family," Lady Walden said with false modesty and a note of pride in her voice. "My mother would have wanted to go to Dalaran and study, but that was not meant to be."

"I take it she married your father instead?" Evelyn surmised.

"She did," Lady Walden shrugged. "But she continued her studies into the arcane anyway, albeit discretely. She initiated me into magic when I grew older. There was a time when I would have fancied studying in Dalaran myself," she added.

"Yet you married Lord Walden instead," Evelyn said.

Lady Walden's expression darkened.

"You aren't here about _him_, are you?" she asked coldly.

"Not at all. About a night elf, actually. Felaenus Creeksong."

Evelyn watched Lady Walden's expression closely, but the woman's emotionless mask was impenetrable. Such were the hazards of interrogating nobles. They were taught from the time they were in swaddles how to hide their feelings.

"He is dead," Evelyn said bluntly. "Murdered." She thought she saw the flicker of surprise on Lady Walden, but she could just as well have imagined it.

"It is regrettable, then," Lady Walden said. "Send my condolences to his family."

"So you knew him," Evelyn said.

"He ran a few errands for me," Lady Walden replied.

"And when did you see him last?"

"Oh, I don't know. Three days ago?"

"Under what circumstances?"

Lady Walden sighed dramatically and sat down on the divan. She generously indicated a chair to Evelyn, which she accepted.

"If you must know, he broke an agreement," Lady Walden said. "I had tasked him with recovering a family heirloom for me."

"Recover it from where?"

"Gilneas, of course."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at this.

"Gilneas being in the state it is, I could hardly go there myself!"

"And he refused?"

"Oh, he accepted at first. He told me he'd leave Darnassus for the Eastern Kingdoms soon, anyway. He promised to give it his best effort. Then, three days ago, he came and said he wouldn't do anything for me anymore."

"What prompted this?"

"Oh, _I_ don't know," Lady Walden scowled. "Ask Greer, that worthless sack of fleas outside."

"Nathaniel Greer?"

"Yes, my _bodyguard." _The word dripped with disgust.

"I—I don't quite understand," Evelyn admitted. "If you dislike the man, why hire him?"

"'Man'!" Lady Walden scoffed. "Barely! But he's the only one I can afford. Other Gilneans avoid me or ask for ridiculous prices and the night elves—well, let's just say that the last night elf I hired to protect me was as useful as a lump of dirt."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at the noblewoman's dark tone.

"And what was this heirloom you asked Felaenus to recover?" she asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Nothing much. A trinket. A necklace of my mother's," Lady Walden answered with a vague gesture.

"Yet you were willing to send someone all the way back to Gilneas for it."

Lady Walden glared at Evelyn icily.

"My husband was a disgrace, Miss Swift," Lady Walden said slowly. "He was an impressionable man with no spine, eager to jump off whatever cliff Godfrey pointed towards. My father was not much better than my husband, but my _mother_! She was a wonder! She could have been the most powerful sorceress of her generation given the chance! Yet she languished in obscurity in order to give her worthless husband heirs so the family name would get passed on! Nobody will remember her as anything other than Lady Hendrick but for me! I will remember her properly, for the powers and the potential she possessed."

Evelyn leaned back during this diatribe, speechless.

"Now, as I was saying," Lady Walden continued in a lighter voice, "Greer."

"What about him?" Evelyn asked, finding her voice again.

"I think he was the one who convinced Felaenus to break his word."

"Why would he do that?"

"To torment me, perhaps," Lady Walden said with a scowl. "All I know is that they spent a lot of time together, drinking and carousing with those other worgen friends of his."

"What worgen friends?"

"Those lackeys of Lord Crowley. The ones in the Gilnean Liberation Front."

"Some call those 'lackeys of Lord Crowley' heroes," Evelyn remarked dryly.

Lady Walden made a sharp gesture, like swatting away an annoying fly.

"Just talk to Greer. He's probably the one who killed Felaenus, anyway."

"Now why would he do that?"

"Does he need a reason? You know how worgen are; a savage lot."

"Oh, I don't think we're _that_ bad," Evelyn said lightly.

Lady Walden froze at the use of the plural pronoun. She probably did not guess that Evelyn was affected by the curse as well—not all Gilneans were—and now she was probably floundering for some way to correct her faux pas.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Lady Walden," Evelyn said before the woman had time to gather herself. "Good day."

She stepped out without waiting for a response.


	4. Chapter 4

Yashine Longarrow watched the curtain close behind Evelyn and sighed deeply.

She walked down near the road and stood, her arms crossed and her shoulders slumped, looking the very image of despondency.

On an impulse, Charlie walked over to her, casually stopping by her side.

"Bit odd. Gilnean lady with a night elf servant."

Yashine's head turned towards the worgen. Her expression was guarded.

"I have a very good reason," she replied tersely.

"Oh, no doubt," Charlie shrugged. "Is it worth it, though?"

Yashine narrowed her eyes at him, but replied slowly,

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like it, I confess. But it is something I must do."

Charlie hm'ed thoughtfully, but had nothing to say to that.

"Know some fella named Felaenus Creeksong?" he asked suddenly, absentmindedly patting the head of his mastiff.

"Felaenus?" she repeated the name, curiosity in her voice. "Yes, I know him. Did Lady Walden get him in trouble?"

"Not very clear if she's the one who got him in it, but yeah, I guess you could say gettin' killed is trouble," Charlie said.

Yashine's eyes widened and her overly-long eyebrows rose.

"I'm sorry, did you just say Felaenus got killed?" the night elf said slowly.

"Mm-hmm," Charlie nodded, not looking at her. "From what I hear, _extremely _so."

Yashine gave a furtive look over her shoulder.

"Did she-"

"No, no," Charlie waved. "A worgen did. Still, now it comes down to figurin' which one, eh? Like Evelyn said, no answer at all would be worse than the bad one."

"How so?" Yashine asked numbly.

Charlie shrugged.

"Well, you know... I guess," he said, scratching behind his ear thoughtfully, "I suppose it just means that, see, if people know who the worgen is, then people know him just as that killer who was worgen, right? But if all they know is that a worgen is a killer, then we're all potential murderers, yeah?"

"I suppose," Yashine said doubtfully.

They stayed in silence for a while.

"Lady Walden had a fight with Felaenus," Yashine said abruptly.

"Wh-huh?" Charlie mouthed, surprised by the outburst.

"It's true!" she whispered urgently. "The last time he came here. He refused to do something for her, I think recover some amulet, and she started yelling at him, saying that she knew about him and Greer conspiring against her. She was screaming that they were working against her, and I half-feared the neighbors would hear, despite those runes, and she said that they were talking about her behind her back and that she was going to put a stop to it someday. Felaenus denied it and said that he had a good reason for refusing, but she wouldn't stop yelling and threatening him, so he just stormed out in the middle of her tirade! Oh, she went on for hours after he left..." Yashine shook her head sadly. "She was in a dreadful mood for the rest of the evening.

Charlie gaped, not sure what to make of any of this, but before he could so much as pose a question, the girl wilted.

"Oh, I shouldn't have told you that!" she hissed to herself. "I should go—I have to go buy food and reagents, I have to... excuse me."

She flitted off, still hugging her arms as she disappeared down the road.

Charlie, puzzled by this entire affair, made his way to Nathaniel Greer's bench and sat down on the other end.

"Odd little bead, that one, 'ey?" Greer snorted, gesturing towards the road Yashine had taken.

"What is she even doing, working for Lady Walden?" Charlie shook his head.

"Oh, I asked!" Greer said. "You know what she said? She said she wanted to go out into the world and be an adventurer! But first, she needed coin, and her parents wouldn't give it to her."

Charlie snorted at this. Plenty of young folk ran away from home despite their parents, with barely more than the clothes on their back and a rusty weapon. Some even got to be great big heroes, or mercenaries, doing blood-work for gold. Charlie could understand the impulse; he'd left his home as a teenager and ran away to Lordaeron, where he apprenticed as a hunter with a sour old woman. He didn't return to Gilneas until much later, when he heard about the wall. He had many, many doubts about which side he's like to be trapped on, and in the end, he chose his childhood home over the wide open world.

His choice didn't pan out quite as expected, but then, Charlie didn't particularly mind the path he'd taken. As a hunter, he'd already had a decent amount of admiration for the grace and ferocity of wild animals. Granted, he'd never have chosen to possess that grace and ferocity for himself, but he didn't think being a worgen was quite as awful a deal as many Gilneans made it out to be. Better worgen than undead, he reasoned, so leaving Lordaeron had proven a wise decision in the end. Though just barely, a little voice in his head whispered.

"Must be better ways to make some gold than workin' for this woman," Charlie muttered.

Greer let out a bark of laughter. He must have thought that Charlie was making some sort of allusion, or else he was extremely self-centered, because he didn't think Charlie was talking about Yashine anymore.

"Oh, definitely," Greer said. "Don't know how I fell into this job, truth be told. That noble strumpet, so high and mighty..." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "Y'know, if the curse could still be passed, I wouldn't be adverse to giving her a nip, yeah? Just to see how much she'd rile against worgen if she were a tad bit furrier herself, ya know?"

Charlie stiffened at this morbid confession. Though since "regaining the balance" (or whatever nonsense the night elves did) the curse could no longer be transmitted through bites, Charlie still thought it was in poor taste to joke about this sort of thing.

"Why work for her, though," Charlie asked, "if she's such a stick in your craw?"

Greer half-snorted and half-shrugged. He looked annoyed with the question. "Money. Boredom."

"Or maybe because she's Lord Walden's widow?" Charlie suggested.

A strange smile appeared at the corner of his snout, exposing yellowed fangs.

"Someone's got to keep an eye on her, 'ey?" he asked, turning to look at Charlie. "See if there's a fire under all that smoke?"

"So you think she's a traitor."

"Naw, never said that," Greer made a dismissive gesture. "Just sayin', if she _were_, wouldn't you rather some honest fellow kept an eye on her and keep her on the straight and narrow?"

Charlie had his doubts about this, but Evelyn came out at that moment, looking annoyed.

"Charlie, let's go," she said tersely.

The hunter did not expect such an abrupt order and he obeyed instinctively, following her. He was already walking when he got to wondering what had annoyed her so.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To report to the Sentinels," she replied.

"Can't you do that alone?"

Evelyn threw a look over her shoulder.

"Did you talk to Greer?" she asked brusquely.

"I did."

"Then, no. Tell me everything he said."

Charlie felt an unexpected twinge of amusement at her authoritativeness.

"Takin' it personally, poppet?" he teased.

Evelyn stopped and whirled around to face him.

"Yes, Charlie," she said with eerie calm, "yes, we are."


End file.
